"Puppy," cooed Papyrus, age four. "Is this why you said I couldn't have a dog?"

"Uh..." said Sans. "More like... the dogs have their own homes to go to."

"Can I pet 'em?"

"Look. Kid. It really takes an effort to..." he trailed off, looking into those pleading, puppy-dog eyesockets. Sans surrendered to his marshmallow soul. "Sure. Just for a little while, okay? Then they have to go back away."

The Gaster Blasters were not accustomed to tenderness. They only came out in moments of extreme terror or rage. But once they were out, Sans could maintain them with his magic.

Pap didn't notice Sans' glowing eye, or the trail of blue light coming from one hand. His eyesockets were solely on the Blasters.

Skeleton dog heads that could snap Pap up in an instant flinched at the touch of his careful hands. They quickly got into it and stopped whimpering and started panting and making happy doggy noises at Pap's gleeful skritching.